


Of Omission and Commission

by I_Dont_KnowWhatImDoing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Civil War (Marvel), Deception, Depressed Steve Rogers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, M/M, Pre-War, Riding, Unreliable Narrator, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7903795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Dont_KnowWhatImDoing/pseuds/I_Dont_KnowWhatImDoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are different reasons it happens. Sometimes it's something small, just an attempt to save face. There he can let it slide. But when the people in Steve Roger's life are too economical with the truth, it can be difficult to accept their reasoning. Natasha, Sam, Bucky... at least their intentions are good. But they never manage to spare him for long.</p><p>A collection of moments throughout Steve Roger's life where he's been lied to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sarah

 

Sarah

 

“ _I'll be fine, love. Just a bit of a flu, no sense in having you catch it. Not to worry, my sunshine boy.”_

They were some of her last words to him, spoken through a closed door in their shared apartment that she refused to open. Now, ducking through the doors at the back of the church to escape the throngs of condolences that would inevitably follow, they echoed in his head. She'd known, he thought, what was coming when she said them. Probably better than most.

It wasn't long before she'd been sequestered away, quarantined, on the other side of the work she'd devoted herself to. Given her life for in the end. He hadn't been allowed to visit. He'd heard from her only through letters, until she'd gotten two weak to write anymore.

She'd barely lasted three months after saying them.

Steve walks home, shoulders hunched despite the lack of wind or any real chill. He thinks about his mother, trying to protect him from the world.

By the time he gets there, Bucky is in his good suit sitting on the dusty stoop.

 

 


	2. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1941.

Bucky

 

Bucky is standing on the corner taking a deep inhale from his cigarette when Steve steps out the doors of the art school. His gaze is across the street, following a group of men in suits and hats with women by their sides, so Steve lets himself take a moment, just to look. To take in the composition of the scene. Bucky with the pomade losing hold in his hair, his sleeves rolled up and collar unbuttoned in the summer heat, suspenders loose on his shoulders, the back of his neck tanned dark; in stark contrast to the three-piece suits flooding around him. Maybe it's that he's still in the artistic mood from class.

As the crowd moves through the doors, Bucky turns and his eyes find Steve. His face cracks into a grin, punctuated by the cigarette, and Steve finally moves down the steps to meet him at the corner.

“What's the matter, Buck? Got nothing better to do but stand on street corners?”

“Nah, just figure I'd try and spot the next Michelangelo or something.” Bucky slings his arm over Steve's shoulders in that easy way he's had ever since he first reveled in growing a full head taller than his classmate. The grip makes it easy for him to start steering Steve down the street, walking with a purpose. It makes him feel a little warm.

“Yeah, well, keep looking, pal. Where are we headed?”

“Your place, then my place. Then out.” The mischief on Bucky's face is an almost palpable thing, and Steve catches the Cheshire grin from his low angle.

“Out?” Steve groans, and Bucky jostles him with a heavy shake as he strides down the street.

“Dancin', Stevie.”

Steve tried not to bristle at the casual use of such a private nickname on the street. “You couldn't have asked me first?”

Bucky snorts. “Course not, you would have said 'no.'”

“It's an ambush then?”

“Aw, nothing quite so brutal. You know I ain't got the tactical mind for it.”

“Oh yeah? Must have dug real deep for this fast one, then.”

That got Bucky to throw his head back and bark out a laugh, pulling a smile out of Steve as well as the two of them descended the steps into the subway.

<><><><><><>

Steve emerged from his shower to Bucky lounging on his meagre couch, clearly starting to drift off.

“Jeez, Buck. Makin' me clean up while you nap?”

Bucky looks out at Steve, but doesn't raise his head from where it's tilted back into the wall. “Saving my energy. Besides, you take forever to shower.” Steve threw himself down on the couch next to Bucky, whipping his head from side to side is as big of a shake as he could muster. Bucky sputtered as water from Steve's still wet hair hit him in the face.

“Punk.”

“Jerk.

Steve sniffed, his nose running from the temperature change from the shower to the living room. “So what's the occasion? You don't usually come pick me up like that.”

“Nothing, just didn't want you flaking out like last time.”

“Hah, right. Because not wanting to sneeze all over my date is 'flaking out.'”

Bucky stretched out with his arms over his head like an over-sized cat. “Hey, you say 'head cold' but I call it a convenient excuse. Left me alone with two sisters that night.”

“Right, like you're complainin'” Steve scoffed. Bucky's ease in groups was still something Steve couldn't quite figure out; Bucky drew people to him from all the around the room. He was handsome, and kind, and had the kind of smile that lit people up. Steve envied him more than a little, but it seemed to just come to him naturally. It was something he was born with.

“Hey, it's plenty of work keeping one woman happy, let alone two. And sisters will gang up on you worse than friends – they have to answer to their mothers when their sister dates a crumb.”

“Jeez, Buck, you should write a book,” Steve said with a role of his eyes.

“O~r you could just come _out_ with me when I ask you to. They say the only real way to learn is by doing.” Bucky finished off his comment with a wink.

Steve turned a little pink in the ears. “Yeah, yeah, I know how you _teach_.”

Bucky looked down at him with his eyebrow arched. “Don't think I wouldn't be if it didn't mean standing two lovely ladies up tonight. But we got a commitment.”

“Yeah, one I didn't sign on for...” That was always how they played it; close to chest. Steve wasn't sure if it was just some unspoken promise between them not to try for what they knew they couldn't have, or if it really was just the way it looked on the surface – just two boys blowing off steam. They didn't kiss if it wasn't leading to something more. But it was always hurried, rushed, and as quiet as they could be. “What, some good band playing tonight?” Steve asked, trying to shift the topic back on to something that wouldn't... distract so much.

“Nah, I just...” Bucky's gaze went far away for a moment. “Wanted to get out tonight, you know?”

“Somethin' on your mind?” Steve asked, the mood in the room shifting.

“Not so much that... I, uh...” Bucky swallowed, and looked down at his lap. “I enlisted today.”

When the initial shock passed, Steve felt a little bit like he was being pulled apart. His heart was filling with pride, but his stomach was also dropping with dread – Bucky was going off to war, and the last time someone in Steve's life did that, he'd never come back. And really, Bucky was easily the most important person in his life now, one of the only people in his life. But at the same time he was bitter; Bucky was doing what he had tried and already failed to do. He'd gone to the recruitment centre by their block of Brooklyn, and after spending over two hours waiting, the doctor had sent him off in less than five minutes. It had been humiliating to see that 4-F stamped onto a paper that had his name on it and a long list of medical “problems.”

But Bucky was everything Steve wished he was. And now he had the paperwork to prove it.

“That's real great, Buck,” Steve said hastily after realizing he had been staring at Bucky in silence for slightly longer than he should have been. And he meant it – it was great. “You tell your ma yet?”

“Yeah...” Bucky said, and Steve couldn't help but notice that he seemed ever so slightly off. “She... wasn't exactly thrilled.”

_Ah._ Steve thought. He figured that must have been it, the reason for Bucky's odd demeanour. Mrs. Barnes had always been a fierce but loving woman, and Bucky was her only son. Steve more than understood her not wanting Bucky to leave, to throw himself head first into danger. “She'd probably feel even worse if you'd been drafted.”

And Steve thought he saw a flinch or a twitch or something. But Bucky looked cool as ever. “Yeah, I suppose you're right...” He stood quickly then, spread his arms out at his sides and flashing a grin that was just so slightly crooked. “So waddaya say? We hit the town with two beauties and celebrate me becoming a full-fledged G.I.?”

Knowing their time was now limited, how could Steve say no?

 


	3. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1943.

Bucky

 

The officers quarters they'd provided him were stark, but much more comfortable than his three-day walk from Azzano had been. This was it – he was actually fighting this war now. He had a team, and they would have missions, would actually be doing things that would help stop Hydra from causing even more pain and suffering. Steve felt more useful than he ever had in his entire life. But there was still something deep within in him that felt unsettled, and he couldn't quite place it. It kept him up at night.

Steve had been surprised when there was a soft knock at the door of his room, almost too quiet to hear, but less surprised when he'd found Bucky standing at the other side. He'd looked stormy, and maybe it was the wear of the last few days and maybe it was something else. Either way, Steve had let him in without a word. When the door was closed, Bucky had surged up to kiss him and Steve felt all the relief and sorrow that he had felt finding Bucky on that table well up within him again. They'd clung to each other like a lifeline.

For a moment, the feel of Bucky's skin against his and the relief that came with it was enough to chase away other thoughts. Bucky was aggressive and unabashed, and the contact, the pull of him inside, had given Steve a moment away from the feeling that there was always a lion ready to pounce.

Now, tangled together on a bed that was already too narrow for Steve on his own, let alone the two of them, Steve was trying to hold on to the moment. He was trying to ignore how odd it felt to have Bucky's head pillowed on his chest, to be so much broader than he was used to being, how much smaller Bucky's frame had felt against him. He was trying to ignore how lean Bucky was, how the abuses of his imprisonment showed on his body. He'd actually been at war while Steve was doing his time as a living prop. He'd almost given his life for his country, and Steve was the one being lauded as a hero. He was trying not to let it drown him.

“Hey, Steve...” Bucky's voice was soft; they had to be quiet. Steve ran his hand over Bucky's bare back to show he was listening. “That Agent Carter... she's it.”

Steve failed to keep the tension from immediately seizing his body. “What do you mean?”

“Don't be stupid, you know it. She's it. You get out of this thing, and you marry her. That's it.”

“Buck...” Steve didn't know what to say. They'd just... and now Bucky was telling him he should marry Peggy Carter. It's not that he hadn't thought about it, rather that he didn't know how to. There was this thing with Bucky that he didn't know how to name, didn't know how to categorize. How would they both fit into his life? He never would have imagined that he would be the one to get married before Bucky, if at all.

“I can hear you thinking,” Bucky murmured. “It's simpler than you're makin' it. I ain't telling you to ask her tomorrow; but the day you win this thing's the day you get down on one knee, so you better start looking for a ring somewhere.”

“What about you?” was all he could manage. 'You,' he said, not 'us.' 'You,' he'd said, not 'we.'

Bucky scoffed. “What about me?” His voice was dark and Steve wished he could see his face, but Bucky was staying turned away from him, talking into his chest.

“Would you... I don't know...” Steve ran his hand over his face.

Bucky lifted his head off of Steve's chest and looked down at him. For a moment, he couldn't read his expression, but his eyes were dark. Then, it was like a switch was flipped, and Bucky's face changed into something easy and confident.

“What, like I can't find some nurse to fall head-over-heels for me?” He was grinning. “We'll have our weddings back to back, get brownstones on the same block. You and Carter can have a heap of kids – they'll grow up with mine. They can run the street.”

Something was slightly off in Bucky's grin, but Steve couldn't place it. He wanted to believe him. To actually think that after all of this, something like that could be waiting.

Bucky had always had his girlfriends throughout the entire time they had been... like this. Steve had always told himself he couldn't be jealous – that it wasn't right. Because if he was jealous, then that meant he wanted something from Bucky that it wouldn't ever be possible to have. He knew there were 'certified bachelors' out there that lived together into their old ages, but it seemed that for every one of them there were more in prison or asylums for inversion. How could he ask for something like that from someone with as a bright of a spark as Bucky?

Steve had always thought that someday Bucky would come to him, tell him he'd met the one, and that what they had would just stop. They wouldn't have to talk about it – they didn't talk about it now. He'd be the best man at Bucky's wedding and an uncle to his kids. But here was Bucky in his bed and telling him that Steve had found the one, and what to do about it.

“You think so?” Steve asked, his voice small.

“Yeah, it's okay, Steve... You'll be okay.” Bucky leaned back in to kiss him again.

 


	4. Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1943.

Peggy

 

The console in front of him was all but useless, and all he could do was press forward on the steering. He could see the crisp white earth beneath him slowly becoming closer, gaining detail. It was millions of lives, or his own. The choice was easy.

“I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance,” Steve said into the radio, doing his best to remember to keep breathing.

“All right,” came Peggy's sturdy reply through the shaky radio connection. He could hear the pain in her voice. “A week next Saturday at the Stork Club.”

“You've got it.” He knew he didn't, even as he said it. But he needed this lie, this little bit of hope. Bucky was gone. Peggy had been the rest of his future. Now he didn't have one. He tried to imagine what the Stork Club would look like, with Peggy in her red dress. He couldn't.

“Eight o'clock on the dot,” she pressed on. “Don't you dare be late. Understood?”

He loved her for how she'd do this for him. Gut herself to give him some semblance of peace at the end. “You know, I still don't know how to dance.” She was too good for someone like him.

“I'll show you how. Just be there.”

He'd been crazy to think any of them really would make it out of this. What had he achieved kidding himself? He'd watched someone he loved fall – he'd slipped through his fingers. He wasn't enough to save him when it really counted. And now he was forcing something like that on Peggy. “We'll have the band play something slow.” She's much better at this than him.

The ground is coming up so much faster now.

“I'd hate to step on your-”

 

 


	5. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2016.

 

Sam

 

Steve was still in his uniform, trying to get around Sam who was stubbornly standing in his path. He'd taken the time to strip out of his Falcon gear and into lounge clothes, but he still looked more than ready for a fight.

“Steve, man, you're exhausted.” Sam's forehead was full of lines and creases. “Will you please just lay the hell down?”

“Sam,” Steve sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Please, I am fine. We have to go through this intel.”

“ _Steve._ ” Sam was already taking that overly-calm tone of voice that Steve knew to mean he was truly frustrated. “We just got back. You've been on your feet for over 24 hours dealing with saving the world. Again. You cannot run yourself into the ground just because we found a folder with some Russian names in it.”

“It's more than a folder with some names in it!” Steve bit back. “It's been released publicly. It could be the break we've been waiting for, it could...” Steve let out a frustrated sound. The common room of the Avengers compound was not the place for this conversation; he didn't want the rest of the team seeing him worked up like this, bickering with a team member. Especially with Sam, who so frequently found himself taking the role of the 'voice of reason' among the synthoid (who struggled with emotions), the teenager (who struggled with emotions), and the ex-assassin (who struggled with emotions). But Steve didn't need to be 'talked down'; he needed to work. It had almost been two years since he first learned that Bucky was still alive, but he always seemed just out of reach. Steve was gripped with worry that was constantly gnawing at him. Was Bucky still alive? Was he in hiding, or had he been captured? Did he know Steve was looking? Was he waiting to be found? What this a test?

“Man, I can see you freaking out. We've worked on this for two years; no way we find one file and it magically has all the answers. It's just going to be another puzzle piece, and you are way too wiped, please. You haven't slept.”

“I slept on the flight,” Steve said, trying to move past Sam and out of the common room, but Sam blocked his path.

“'Slept on the flight' my ass. You spent the whole flight going over battle formations and the footage from War Machine. Vision doesn't sleep, and he doesn't lie.” Sam was doing that thing with his eyebrow that made Steve have to suppress a smile when it was directed at someone else. With it targeted at him, he could feel his jaw jutting forward. “Come on, man, tell me I'm wrong. You know that if you weren't so tired you wouldn't be so pissed at me right now. If Natasha was here, she'd be telling you the same thing.”

Steve bristled, but didn't have a response.

“Listen... Get some rest, I'll work on this. I actually did sleep on the plane, so let me handle it for now. I know one of your powers is 'super stubborness' or something, but please, you're gonna pass out.”

Steve bowed his head, hands on his hips, and let out a heavy sigh. He was exhausted, it was true, and Sam wasn't going to let him get away with it. “If you find something big, you'll wake me?”

Sam let out a heaving sigh of relief. “Yes, man, of course. Just go and sleep.”

<><><><><><>

Steve woke up in his suite four hours later, groggy and body feeling heavy, but less sore and bruised than he had been when he first lay down. He splashed a little water on his face in his en suite bathroom, brain starting to buzz as he shook the fog of sleep. But when he stepped out into the hallway, the look on Wanda's face made him freeze. She was standing there, owlish in her way, almost like she was waiting for him. But she looked shocked and stricken, and every part of her body language read that something horrible had happened.

“Steve...” she said. “I am so sorry...”

Steve could feel his hands going numb. “What happened?”

“Those leaked files... It's all over the news...”

It was all Steve had to hear before he was barrelling down the hallway towards the common room. If he were more aware, he'd be thankful that the wide hallways of the compound made it so that he didn't have to actively push Wanda out of the way. He skidded to a halt in the common room, where the over-sized television displayed a 24-hour news channel. The headline read, in large bold letters, “ **BREAKING: BUCKY BARNES IDENTIFIED AS HYDRA ASSASSIN 'WINTER SOLDIER.'”**

Steve's stomach dropped. They had been so careful; Sam, Natasha, Fury, and Maria had been the only ones that knew the truth. They wanted to keep it that way, hoped it reduced the risk, would keep Bucky safer. But soon the whole world would know. Maybe they already did.

“Is... is he..?” Steve didn't want to ask.

“All they have is his identity. No word on location or anything. As far as we know he hasn't been made.” Sam's mouth was a thin line, his eyes fixed on the screen. There was a blurry image of Steve fighting a masked figure on the Washington D.C. street corner, the metal arm glinting in the sun. Then there was a picture of Bucky in his enlistment uniform in the corner.

That picture was all over the exhibit. Steve had only realized the first time he'd walked in there how young Bucky looked in it.

Vision and Rhodey had stood from their seats when Steve entered the room. “Captain Rogers,” Vision said in his smooth and even way as Rhodey slipped out, raising his cell phone to his ear. “Please allow me to express my condolences. This is surely an unexpected turn of events. I can understand for desire to discretion up until this point.”

“How do they know?” Steve asked the room.

“It appears,” Vision replied. “That the Hydra files that were leaked this morning contained information which allowed journalists to identify the rumoured agent 'Winter Soldier' as assumed KIA American soldier James Buchanan Barnes.”

Steve missed the look Wanda shot Vision from behind him. “Steve... This will not change much,” she tried, stepping around Steve to stand in front of him, hands on his shoulders. “He will know how to hide.”

_ If he's even still hiding, _ Steve thought, but could not say. “I need to talk to Sam.”

“Okay,” Wanda said, letting her hands fall from Steve's shoulders. His eyes were still on the screen, but he knew her face was pinched in sympathy; he didn't want it directed at him. He wasn't the one truly hurt here. “Okay, Vision and I will go. But after, Steve... let us help. We will find a way.”

When the two of them had left the room, that was when he was finally able to look at Sam. He was sitting, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands on his mouth, radiating tension.

“Sam...”  
  
“F.R.I.D.A.Y. is already filtering out calls from the press. Hill called and said to sit tight; depends on how the press spins it all in the end but we might have to do some damage control. Said you might have to appear on camera eventually, but we'll delay it as long as possible. And they'll prepare a statement for you, you can approve it in advance.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“About an hour and a half. The kid saw it first...”

God, no wonder Wanda had been so shaken. “And you didn't think all of this happening was something I should know?” Steve couldn't quite keep the edge of anger out of his voice.

Sam finally looked at Steve, his expression saying that this question was something he had been waiting for. He looked stormy and frustrated, his lips pursed. “This doesn't change anything.”

“The hell it doesn't!” Steve burst out.

“Steve, it doesn't help us find him,” Sam said, standing with the rising tension in the room. “We're no closer to knowing where he is, whether he's hiding, whether Hydra has him again, nothing.”

“Someone could recognize him now,” Steve tried. He felt horrifically defeated.

“And do what? Call the local cops? What are they going to do?” Sam ran his hand down his face. “If they try and bring him down, he'll go through them like tissue. If they call someone actually qualified? He'll probably be gone by the time they get there. Besides, who knows how much play this story will get out of the States. We know he's probably not on this continent.”

“You should have come and told me.”

“Steve,” Sam sighed and planted his feet. “This is a shit situation. I know this isn't something we wanted to have happen. But this is not something big.”

“It's front page news, Sam!”

“Front page news with information we already knew! Now at least the rest of your team is with you. Wanda's tore up about it; you should talk to her.”

“I deserved to know, Sam.” Steve pulled at the short hairs on the back of his head, frustration boiling over.

“You _deserve_ to survive this. You cannot help anyone, especially not Bucky, if you're burnt out. You cannot run yourself into the ground over this, you hear me?” Steve was surprised by Sam's anger, but straightened his spine as Sam continued. “If you're exhausted, you're going to make mistakes. And you're freaking me out that one day one of those mistakes is going to cost you your ass.”

“Sam-”

Suddenly, muffled jazz began to play from Sam's pocket. He pulled his phone from his pocket, raising it to his ear with a terse, “Hello?” There was a pause, and Sam gave a half-hearted snort before holding his phone out to Steve. “It's Nat. She says to stop leaving your phone in your room.”

 


	6. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2016.

Bucky

 

When he turned and saw him, finally after all this time, he didn't feel the relief he might have expected. Just that gnawing dread that refused to ever leave him. “Do you know me?”

Bucky's posture was defensive. “You're Steve. I read about you at the museum...”

Steve could hear Sam in his ear, warning of the incoming tactical team. “I know you're nervous. And you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying.”

Bucky bristled. “I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore.”

Sam's warning came again; Steve needed more time. “Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. And they're not planning on taking you alive.”

“That's smart. Good strategy.”

Steve's gut twisted. “This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck.”

“It always ends in a fight.”

There were running out of time. But Steve needed to know. “ _You_ pulled me from the river.” _Not the Soldier. Not anyone else._ “Why?”

“I don't know.”

“Yes, you do.”

Then the shooting started.

 


	7. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2016.

Natasha

 

Steve had never been so aware of how quiet the Quinjet actually ran – now, with only him and Bucky inside and a long trip to Siberia, he felt the silence as a distinct, oppressive thing. He couldn't stop thinking about everyone they'd left behind at the airport. What would come of them? Steve thought imprisonment was more than likely. But he knew he didn't have a choice, as did the others – they had to do this. Who knew what Zemo would do with a small army of Winter Soldiers, and who would pay the price?

The guilt ate at him anyways.

He was grateful for Natasha coming around in the end, for seeing what was at stake and no longer playing it safe. She was always trying to manage the damage, keep the blast zone of any situation as contained as possible. He was certain T'Challa would tell Tony what she had done, how she had allowed them to escape. What Tony would do from there was a mystery. Steve had never really felt like he could predict Tony, and thought that sometimes he unfairly assumed the worst. But, lately, it was the worst of him that was coming out to play. And he was winning.

“Natasha really saved us back there,” Steve said, more filling the silence than anything.

“Yeah...” Bucky responded, quiet and pensive. Bucky used to be all ease with his silver tongue. Now his sentences were short, clipped. He seemed to only speak when he needed something. “She's smart. Thinks through all the outcomes before he acts.”

Steve wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't know if he would be able to trust Natasha when he first met her, but after the Chitauri and D.C. and everything... she'd become one of his closest friends. She looked out for him, and she had his back. Natasha was one of the few people he could count on. She always did what she thought was best, and sometimes to her that meant taking the emotion out of things. He knew that's what this was with her; that was how she was able to stand by his side at Peggy's funeral and still stand against him on the Accords. To her, that wasn't a contradiction.

“You know...” Bucky continued after a time, looking out the windows of the Quinjet. “She was looking out for you. Don't be upset with her for keeping it from you. She did the right thing.”

Steve went over Bucky's words again and again in his head, but couldn't make sense of them. “Keeping what from me, Buck?”

Bucky turned to him, the harsh sun above the jet casting stark shadows across his face. “Me.”

Steve's blood ran cold. “You? What do you mean?”

Bucky's face fell, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck. It was in the files, I thought you knew.”

“What was in the files? Which files?” Steve tried to sound calm, to not let the panic creep into his voice.

“Hers. The Black Widow Program was Red Room, back when they used to use me for more than just the odd hit.” Steve had never read through Natasha's old Soviet files; he wanted to respect who she was now, and he didn't need the gritty details of her past to do that. He thought she'd told him enough. “I trained her, Steve.”

“She knew you. She'd seen your face before.” The air had been knocked out of him.

“Something like that...” Bucky muttered.

“She knew you and didn't tell me.”

“I would have killed you if she had.” Bucky's pale eyes were piercing, and they only helped his matter-of-fact words strike Steve to his core.

Steve swallowed down his anger and sorrow at the revelation – he had to focus on the mission ahead. Zemo was their immediate problem. Years of betrayal had to wait.

<><><><><><>

With Zemo in custody, and his shield gone, Steve's priority had been to free his friends and teammates. He couldn't leave them to rot; they were there because of him. But he didn't know where they were or how to get them out. It had been Bucky who first suggested Natasha, and Steve knew that she was the only way. She'd not only known the location of The Raft, but how to get in, get everyone out, and get them to Wakanda with T'Challa's support. Steve hadn't expected a warm reception from the man that had fought so brutally in the streets of Romania and the airport in Germany, but T'Challa was remorseful and meditative. He'd expressed that giving them shelter for as long as they needed was the least he could do to atone for what he had done, how he had tried to kill Bucky where he stood.

Wanda had marvelled at the nature, and both Scott and Sam had swiftly descended on the technology. Clint looked strained around the eyes, and was simply eager to call his family. Bucky had drifted off and disappeared.

Steve sat on the balcony of his room, and if it had looked out on the woods of upstate New York instead of a teaming jungle it could have been the Avengers compound. The air was hot and humid, and he could hear the calls of birds and other wildlife. They didn't cover the sound of Natasha as she approached, but he knew that she was letting herself be heard by him.

“Hey,” she spoke casually as she stepped through the open door to join him on the balcony. She sat on the edge that Steve rested his weight on, leaning back to look around. It was a precarious position, but she looked at ease.

“Hey,” Steve replied a little curtly. He felt bogged down and tense – the past several days weighing heavily on him in mind, body, and spirit. The life and identity he was finally getting used to in this time was completely fractured. They'd started to become a strange little family in the compound, trying to do what they could. Now they were fugitives because of an ill-advised document. It all felt so wasted. Would any of it had happened if Natasha had just told him the truth from the start?

“Alright, out with it.” Natasha was only looking at Steve out of the corner of her eye, but she was looking all the same. “You're upset with me, and you're bad at hiding it. So cough it up – what did I do?”

“Natasha,” Steve sighed.

“You're brooding. Just get it over with, Steve. You don't need me to tell you how bad of a liar you are again.”

He didn't know if he was up for this conversation, but she wasn't giving him an option. “...Bucky told me.”

She was looking at him as though she was flipping through a Rolodex, running through several possible options and trying to figure out which of them was the correct one. “What did he tell you?”

“That you knew him... before. In Red Room.”

Natasha hummed. “'Knowing' is one way of putting it.”

“You could have told me,” Steve said, his anger starting to edge into his voice.

“If I had told you, you'd be dead,” she said, echoing Bucky's statement from days before.

“I could have gone to find him first; I would have known to look years sooner.”

Natasha huffed out a laugh. “If you'd gone looking, you would have made enough noise that they would have let him find you first. And you'd be dead, that I know. Don't lie to me and say you would have fought back – as soon as your life is the only one on the line you stop caring. He would have killed you and you would have let him.”

Steve tried and failed to swallow the lump that was growing in his throat. “When did you know?”

“After you were brought out of the ice,” she said, her voice getting a little softer. “I knew him as Yasha back then. I had never seen a picture of James Barnes until I was first shown your file when you were being considered for the Avengers Initiative.”

“You didn't know me then...” Steve said, shaken. “You could have said something to someone. You didn't know how I would react...”

“I'd seen enough to know it was a bad idea. I know a little something about what it's like fighting side-by-side with someone...” Natasha slid off the ledge, and walked over to Steve. She took his face in her hands so he'd look up at her, and they felt cool to his skin. “I'm sorry,” she said, earnest. “I still think it was the right thing to do, but I'm sorry I hurt you. I know you trusted me.” She kissed his cheek, and Steve felt his anger give way to sorrow.

Because she was right. If he'd learned that Bucky was still alive, he would have been ready to burn the world to the ground to find him. But he wouldn't have known where to start. And in the end, he couldn't fight Bucky when his was the only life the line; he wouldn't let someone else pay the price for his attachment, but he couldn't hurt Bucky for his own sake. It was _Bucky_.

“You still love him,” she said. “You can see it in the old videos too. All this time and I've never seen you smile like you did in those reels.”

“He was gone...” Steve managed, but stopped before the words could choke him. Natasha wrapped her arms around Steve's neck, pulling him into a hug and he folded into it.

It was true. As close as they had become, he couldn't trust Natasha to always be honest with him. But he had asked her to be his friend, and she was. He could trust her to always watch out for him.

 


	8. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2016.

Bucky

 

The first few days they were in Wakanda, he didn't see Bucky much. Steve told himself that it was okay, that Bucky needed time. It surprised him a little, that Bucky had withdrawn so quickly upon their arrival in Wakanda. He had thought they had managed to bond again somewhat, that Steve had effectively shown how ready he was to be there for Bucky however he needed him. But on the other hand, it made sense, and maybe Steve had been too hopeful. Bucky hadn't wanted to come out of hiding, he'd be forced to; so Steve gave him his space, as much as it hurt. He told himself that maybe that's what he had really needed all along – to be away from him and the pressure of his past, of who he used to be.

So when the door to his room creaked open quietly late one sight several days into their stay, his first thought was that it was Natasha, or maybe even Wanda. Wanda was solemn sometimes, and the two of them had formed a bond over their years together at the compound. He knew he'd never replace her brother, and she was far from fragile, but he couldn't help but want to shield her from things sometimes. Natasha had once told him they had the same self-flagellation streak, and it might have been true. Their friendship had sometimes turned into late-night talks, when Wanda was feeling especially philosophical and knew Steve would still be awake. She was young, but so smart and so empathetic. He'd been able to open up to her without fear, for the most part. There were certain things where the need to keep it close to his chest, just for his basic survival, was too deeply ingrained.

So when the back-lit figure in the doorway had shaggy hair and a single arm, Steve was a little surprised. Surprised and wary of the thing that felt dangerously like hope bubbling up in his belly.

“Hey...” he whispered into the darkness, as though if he spoke too loudly Bucky would decide this had been a bad idea and turn away.

“Hey yourself...” came Bucky's unsteady reply.

There was a pause. “Everything okay?” Steve asked, when it appeared that Bucky wasn't going to continue to talk on his own.

“Yeah... I just...” Steve could just make out how Bucky worked his jaw forward, looking uncertain. “I thought I should visit.”

“Do you want to come in?”

For a second, Bucky looked like he might leave, say nothing and disappear. But after a moment he gave a nod and moved forward, shutting the door behind him and blocking out the light. Steve didn't know how well Bucky could see in the dark, but imagined it must approach his own abilities for this to be comfortable. From across the room, Steve could just make out the details of his face, even in the darkness. If Bucky was anxious, he didn't show it much. He walked across the room, hesitating briefly before he sat down on the edge of the bed. Steve could have reached out and poked him with his foot.

The silence seemed to stretch on and Steve was about to speak up when Bucky asked, “What are you going to do from here?”

Steve was stunned by the question. “Uhh...” Steve threw his hands up a little and shook his head. “I'm... not really sure, Buck. When I first woke up I... sort of just did whatever felt right at the time, and hoped I wouldn't regret it. And I don't. But... I guess all anyone was really asking of me was to take up the shield. Not sure if I know what I can do without it.”

“Why give it up, then?”

Steve scoffed. “After all of this? What we all went through, you especially...? It didn't mean the same things anymore. I don't believe the same things anymore. It just didn't fit.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, his features pinched with his eyes on the floor. “You don't have to... lose things for me. You don't owe me anything.”

“Bucky...” Steve shifted in the bed, moving towards Bucky and sitting on his knees, but stopping shy of actually touching him. He wanted to touch him, wanted to offer comfort if he could, but he didn't know if it was welcome. “This isn't about owing you anything. Hell, if it was, I'd never be out of your debt. But I was doing what was right. You didn't deserve any of this.”

Bucky turned his face even further away. “I could have handled it.”

“They would have killed you, Buck. You know that.”

Bucky worked his jaw again, and his shoulders were hunched. Steve got the sinking feeling that Bucky wasn't as opposed to that outcome as Steve was, and Steve felt his grief well up inside him. Bucky had already died to him once, and then come back. Steve didn't know if he cope with him dying again. It almost killed him the first time, but he'd gotten frozen instead.

“Why did you run, Buck?” Steve asked, his voice deep but small. “Why didn't you let me come find you?”

“What would you have done if I had? Brought me back to your Avengers? In case you missed it, I kind of killed one of their parents.” Bucky's voice was bitter. And Howard was a blow, Steve couldn't imagine what it must have been like inside of Bucky's head knowing he had killed someone he had once known and now knew again, had stared down the son he had orphaned. Only Bucky knew if there were more people that he had once known that had died by his hands. Steve knew he easily could have been on that list of people.

“... I wouldn't have had to take you anywhere. I could have come with you. I wouldn't make you do anything you didn't want to, you know that...”

Bucky let out a small and tense laugh. “No, not consciously, anyways...”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Steve bristled.

“I mean...” Bucky finally turned to look at him, and he looked gaunt and vulnerable. “You come at me with that big earnest face of yours and... you've got a way of making people do what you need them to without much convincing.”

Steve took in a shaking breath. “...If I'd found you... you would have come with me, if I'd asked.” It was a blow, so know that that was all it would have taken. All he needed to do was ask, ask enough, and he could have had Bucky by his side. Would have been able to watch out for him. He'd have known he was safe.

“That's why I had to run... and why I need you not to ask.”

Bucky was staring right at him, so Steve knew he must have seen the emotion that crossed his face. “You're leaving again...”

“Not quite, but... yeah, I'm not going to be around. It's too dangerous... I've already tried to kill you enough times as it is.”

“Wanda... she could help,” Steve tried. “Deactivate the triggers, maybe. She can get into people's minds-”

“I don't need anyone else inside my head, Steve. This is the safest thing for everyone...”

“Bucky...” Steve was warring with himself. On one hand, he knew that if he asked, if he begged, Bucky would probably stay with him. On the other, Bucky had just asked him not to, and told Steve that he needed to respect his wishes. But that meant being gone from him again. “Does that include you? Will you be safe?”

Bucky gave a small and sad little laugh. “Closest thing I've known to safe in over 70 years...”

Steve's chest felt tight, and he bowed his head to take a deep breath through his nose. “Okay, Buck... okay.” Steve could feel Bucky's eyes on him, but he didn't want to break down. He couldn't let on. Bucky had asked him not to. But his eyes stung all the same.

He was getting so deep into is grief that it took Steve by surprise when he felt a warm hand on the back of his neck. Steve looked up to see Bucky's face, sad and apologetic. “Stevie...” The air left Steve's chest like he'd been punched at the name. He was hunched, sitting on his knees with his hands on the bed, and the position made it easy for Bucky to pull him into the kiss.

And Steve melted into it.

The feel of Bucky's stubble on his jaw, his lips, the hand on the back of his neck – it was so foreign but so familiar at the same time. They were still at first, just holding their mouths together. But when something gave way, energy came pouring in. Steve surged up to meet him when Bucky gripped the hairs at the back of his head, and his hands found Bucky's waist. Bucky was still sitting with his legs over the edge of the bed, the remnants of his metal arm opposite Steve's open body. But Steve could feel the cut of him through his cotton shirt.

Bucky kissed along Steve's jaw, and then down his neck, and Steve threw his head back for it. Bucky released his hair, and gave his chest a small shove. Steve got the idea and moved back so that we was sitting upright against the wall at the head of the bed. Bucky showed no awkwardness as he moved up the bed to join Steve – he crowded Steve's large frame back against the wall, leaning his entire forearm against the wall to support himself. Bucky's eyes were dark and his breathing a little elevated, and he rested his forehead against Steve's. For a moment, they just breathed together, and Steve knew this was a farewell – something they'd never had the chance to have before. Bucky was consoling him for losing him. He knew how this would effect him, what it would do. But he needed to do it anyways. Steve wrapped him arms around Bucky's broad frame, and he could feel the difference the years had made to his body. He could feel the sleeve that capped the raw metal edge of what remained of his arm, and the faint edge on his back where flesh turned into cool metal. Steve wondered if it hurt. He knew it had hurt when they attached it, he'd seen those files. Meanwhile he had slept, encased in ice, feeling nothing. They should have left him there.

“Hey...” Bucky's voice was low, and he cupped the side of Steve's face in his palm. “Stay with me...”

Steve looked up at him again, and found that his vision was blurred by tears that threatened to spill. He gave Bucky a nod, and moved in to kiss him again. He couldn't let himself be swallowed by his grief. Bucky wanted him in this moment, he was still here... He needed to savour it.

Bucky straddled Steve across his lap, and Steve let his hands slip under Bucky's shirt. Their kiss grew desperate as they bit and licked at each others mouths. Bucky briefly broke the contact to lean back, reach behind himself, and pull his shirt off over his head in one fluid movement. He pulled Steve into him, forcing him to lean off the wall, so that he could reach down Steve's back and grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. He tossed the article over his shoulder, and then pushed Steve back against the wall, kissing him again. He pressed their bodies together, licking and biting at Steve's neck, and Steve could feel himself stiffen in his sleep pants.

He was running his hands over the scarred skin on Bucky's back, feeling the curves of his muscles and bumps of his spine. Bucky arched his back and Steve felt every inch of the slide across his lap; when Bucky bit the junction of Steve's neck and shoulder, he let out a gasp, and moved his hands down to Bucky's ass.

“Bucky...”

“Remember that little abandoned farm house in France?” Bucky asked, voice sounding husky.

“Snuck away from the guys on our third day of being told to hold position...”

“Think I can still take it as good as you can give it?” Bucky murmured in Steve's ear before nipping at it. Steve gave his behind a squeeze in answer, letting him take the lead. “Get these off me, then.”

Bucky braced on the wall and swung his leg over Steve, moving to stand beside the bed. Steve swung his legs so that he was sitting on the edge, looking up at Bucky in the darkened bedroom. He reached out and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Bucky's sweatpants, and gingerly pulled the fabric down from his waist and legs, letting it puddle on the floor. Bucky stood before him then, completely bare, his cock half-hard between his legs, and Steve let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Bucky's face was unreadable, but Steve mouth watered at the sight of him.

It hit Steve like a rush: how much he had missed this, the touch and the intimacy, how it felt to be wanted as more than just a prop or a conquest. Bucky had wanted him before anyone had seen dollar signs or a piece of meat when they looked at him.

He slid off the edge of the bed and sank to his knees, running his hands up Bucky's thighs, looking for any sign of reluctance. The look Bucky continued to give him was layered, but hungry. Steve bit his lip as he took Bucky in hand, stroking him to hardness. When he leaned in, licking softly, he watched Bucky's eyes slide shut and head fall forward, his long hair falling in a curtain around his face. Steve made his tongue wide and flat as he licked at Bucky's head before he slid him smoothly into his mouth. Bucky's hand flexed and tensed at his side, and he let out a soft sound of pleasure as Steve sucked, one hand at the base of him. Steve could feel him getting harder in his mouth and increased his efforts.

“Ah... Stevie...” Bucky groaned. “You keep that up and this ain't gonna last...”

Steve sat back, letting Bucky slide wetly from his mouth. He looked up at Bucky through his lashes, lips red and puffy, and his chest and cheeks flushed. Bucky grabbed his chin in one hand, twisting Steve's head up and bending down to kiss him fiercely. Steve completely submitted to it, ready to supplicate himself however Bucky wanted. If this was going to be their last night like this... Steve would let Bucky chase away his grief with his touch.

Bucky released his jaw and straightened back up, moving to the nightstand and digging through the drawer. He pulled out a small pouch which he brought to his mouth so he could unzip it. Foil packets spilled onto the nightstand, and Bucky grabbed two before passing them to Steve.

“Get up,” he said, “Sit back against the headboard again.”

Steve stood, surprised at how shaky his legs felt, and complied. He looked at the packets in his hand, discovered they were lubricant, and was suddenly much more aware of how heavy and hot his dick felt without contact.

Bucky didn't make him wait long. He moved across Steve, laying on his left side next to him and pulled Steve into another kiss. He raised his right knee, resting his leg across Steve's. He pawed at Steve's chest, before breaking the kiss and murmuring, “You gotta help me out here, Stevie. I only got one hand...”

Steve shook himself slightly before opening one of the packets and pouring its contents onto his fingers. He reached across Bucky's bent leg, and began to work him open. He went slowly, trying to take his time with something he was sure Bucky's body was no longer used to. But it wasn't long before Bucky bit him on the pectoral, earning himself a groan from Steve.

In this place, in this time, with all that had happened and was going to happen... fuck being quiet.

“Come on, Stevie, I ain't made of glass...”

Steve buried his face into Bucky's hair, drinking in the unique smell of him, as he slid a second finger into Bucky's body. Bucky responded with a pleased groan and started lazily stroking Steve's until-then-neglected dick.

“Ah, Buck...”

Bucky groaned into Steve's shoulder as he loosened him, Steve trying to increase his pace to appease Bucky's impatience without hurting him. Bucky clung to him, willing his body to relax. They stayed together like that for a time, until Bucky sighed, “Enough, come on, Stevie, enough.”

He planted his hand on Steve's chest to push himself up as Steve pulled his hand away. He tore open the other packet, spreading the slick over himself as Bucky shifted to straddle him. He held himself by the base as Bucky bore his weight down and Steve slowly sunk inside him. Steve breathed through his teeth as Bucky groaned, hair hiding his face.

“Bucky...” Steve breathed. “God, Buck...”

“Always had a way with words, didn't you?” Bucky huffed out, seated fully in Steve's lap.

Steve leaned in and captured Bucky's lips, and the shift earned him a rumble from Bucky's chest. He ground down experimentally at first, before Bucky started to find a rhythm. Steve rested his hands on Bucky's waist, watched the flush rise in his cheeks, and listened to the little sounds he made with each thrust down. Bucky's body felt so tight around him.

And it came to Steve at this moment, that this would possibly be the last time they would be able to have this. That after this, Bucky would leave him and before long he would feel alone again. That sinking feeling would creep back into his chest, and he'd be consumed again by wondering _Is Bucky okay? Is he safe? Does he think of me?_

He had his friends, his new family, but nobody would ever really fill the holes in his heart left by those he had lost. They just didn't feel quite so raw and open all of the time. He'd never see Peggy again. He may never see Bucky either. The last of the people that knew him before all of this, who knew who he was.

He wrapped one arm around Bucky's waist and slid the other up his back, sinking it into his long hair, and started to thrust up into Bucky's body at an increasing pace. Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulders, holding on.

“Ah, _yes_ , Steve, that's it...” Bucky panted, his body being jostled by Steve's force.

“Bucky-” Steve choked out.

Steve wanted to hold him there and stay in this moment, even as it burned him from the inside out. He wanted to cling to it hard enough so that it would stay, to keep Bucky with him, as though something like that could be possible with all of his pointless strength. But it was fleeting, and the clock was ticking down. And all he could do was take what was being offered to him and give Bucky what he was asking for.

He took his hand out of Bucky's hair and wrapped it around his erection, stroking him as they moved together at their rough pace. The bed creaked beneath them and the headboard hit against the wall.

Bucky's head fell forward, and he bit into Steve's shoulder as he keened and came across their chests. He felt raw and overstimulated, but he continued to work Steve's cock inside him. He called Steve's name as they continued, and when Steve's orgasm overtook him it took him by surprise. He was overwhelmed.

Bucky stroked the side of Steve's face and hair, kissing him as he panted and came down.

“It's okay, Steve... You'll be okay...” Bucky murmured, and Steve found that he again had tears in his eyes, but this time they were falling.

<><><><><><>

When Steve had learned the following morning that Bucky's refuge would be cryogenic sleep, it was bittersweet. At the very least, Steve would know where he was and could watch over him, keep in safe in every way within his power. On the other, it meant no life for Bucky. He didn't even know if he would dream in cryo.

“Are you sure about this?” Steve asked, knowing the answer he'd received, but needing to ask anyways.

“I can't trust my own mind.”

T'Challa gave words of comfort, promising his faith and resources. But Steve could take his eyes off of the tube as Bucky went inside and submitted himself to the ice.

After everyone else had left the room, and only Steve and Bucky's unconscious form remained in the clean, clinical room. Steve put his hand up against the tube, looking through the fog at Bucky's still face. He couldn't decide whether or not Bucky looked peaceful, or tormented, or as though he was serving his penance for things he hadn't chosen, hadn't been able to control. But after all these horrors and decades and desperate attempts, Steve was still just glad to have the chance to look at him.

He had the suspicion that Bucky had never been all the way honest with him, even as he'd bared his heart. It may not have even been intentional – he's not sure if Bucky ever knew what he felt all the way through. Steve certainly never had. But even if he'd never know all the truths, never see all of the hidden corners, he was still grateful to have been given the opportunity to know, to look at all.

Bucky was his true north, and he'd certainly never would have made it as far as he had to this impossible year without him.

So he'd accept this as it was. Not transparent, or perfect, or even right. But just the way it was.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well. That was something. I signed up for this Big Bang when I was rejected from graduate school. Then things changed and I actually wound up going to graduate school. Trying to write this while starting a masters and moving to a new city was a very big challenge.
> 
> Thank you so, so much to Jessie Lucid for their incredible artwork, especially considering I forced them to do it in a very short period of time. It's like a study Steve himself would do later, when trying to reflect and process. You can find more of their work at LucidNancyBoy on Tumblr.
> 
> I hope that this piece is ultimately something that makes sense, since I'm not completely happy with it. I wanted to touch on the idea of Natasha knowing about Bucky but never telling Steve, since it's something that I've always wondered about and honestly really hoped to see in Civil War. From there, the concept grew. The lies aren't always the most obvious, but there is one in every single chapter. I'd love to hear what people think of them.


End file.
